


Watching Over

by glacis



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-27
Updated: 2010-01-27
Packaged: 2017-10-06 17:52:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glacis/pseuds/glacis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lindsey's past comes back to bite him (crossover elements of the movie Love Song).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Watching Over

Watching Over, an Angel story with Love Song elements by Glacis. Rated NC17. No copyright infringement intended to either.

 

It didn't take him long outside LA to figure out why Angel'd been hugging his bumper. The second cop to pull him over was laughing so hard it was a wonder he didn't pee his too-tight pants.

Cost Lindsey a hundred and seventy bucks to the county to get out of that one.

He ripped the sign proclaiming to the world that cops sucked from his tailgate and threw it in the bed of the pickup. Somewhere between Indio and Blythe heading down the Ten it blew out again. Nobody noticed. There was nobody _to_ notice.

Lindsey didn't have a plan. He didn't know where he wanted to be, just where he didn't want to be. LA, for starters. And he sure as hell wasn't going back to Oklahoma. If he had to find a hole to crawl in and lick his wounds, it wouldn't be where there was even the off chance anyone who'd ever known him might be there to gloat.

He may have left on his own terms, but he was still running, and the little voice inside him refused to call himself anything but a loser. Even if by running, he'd managed to retain what little was left of his sanity. His life. Maybe even his soul, if he had one. If he hadn't lost it or sold it or signed it over. He'd have to wait until he died to know that for sure. If the first thing he saw when he opened his eyes was Holland, well, then he'd know.

If he got really lucky, death would be the end.

He headed south, not pushing it but not dawdling either. Yuma was as hot as he expected, and he spent an extra two days waiting for a radiator to be shipped in before he could go on. Las Cruces was as pretty as he remembered it, and El Paso as dirty. By the time he hit San Antonio his fingers were starting to itch and his ass was getting tired of the truck seat.

There were places on the Riverwalk where a man could make a decent living with a guitar and a bit of creativity. The second night he decided he liked it. A week later, his feet were itching again.

He re-acquainted Houston with country blues McDonald-style, and played ten nights at a series of holes in the wall where the scotch was free and the appreciation was freer. He could almost hear the cracks in his spirit slowly filling up with new life. He slept better than he had in years.

Then his feet started to itch again. He had no idea what was pulling him on, but as long as it did, he followed. He could afford it. The time was good to him, bringing him slowly back to himself in a way he thought he'd lost. Further stops to make music in Lake Charles, Lafayette and Baton Rouge, a little less time in each, until he finally landed in New Orleans.

His feet stopped itching. The nape of his neck started in.

Whatever it was he'd had to get to, it was there, in New Orleans. It was close. And it was nasty.

Not having the faintest fucking clue what he was supposed to do next, Lindsey followed a tip he'd gotten from an accomplished bluesman in Lafayette and headed for the French Quarter. Night was coming on and the streets were full of people, the smell of spicy food from the restaurants, the occasional horse-drawn carriage and, everywhere, music.

He wandered for awhile, soaking it in, then took a left turn off Bourbon Street up Orleans and strolled a few blocks to Rampart. Staring up at the maroon canvas flapping in the slight breeze, he grinned.

"Funky Butt. God, Amasa, what you get me into." Shaking his head, he pushed through the door and into another world. It wasn't very big, but it surrounded him and sucked him in completely. A big black woman draped in bright yellow chiffon was attacking "Born Under a Bad Sign" with a wail that stopped him in his tracks and made his toes curl. He was grinning like a madman before he made it to the bar. "The things you get me into," he muttered again, sounding much happier than he had out on the sidewalk. He sank onto a stool and leaned an elbow on the bar.

"Who gettin' you in what, sugar?" The man sitting beside him at the bar must have been eighty if he was a day, and from the look of his hands, had been playing something with strings since he was born.

"Trouble, sir, nothin' but trouble," he answered automatically. "Friend of mine name of Amasa sent me this way. Said I'd feel right at home."

And he did. The mind-bending vocal artistry behind him made him close his eyes and drift for a moment. When he opened them up again, the old man was grinning at him as madly as he knew he must be grinning back. Before he could get another word out, a man roughly the size of a house grabbed him in a hug that lifted him clean off the stool and nearly squeezed him in half.

"Billy-boy! What you done to your hair? Sheared you off like a sheep!"

Lindsey found himself turned, deposited on the stage, and pushed over next to the woman, who'd stopped making that incredible noise. The man-bear growled happily, "Marva , baby, look who I brung ya!"

Reaching over to Lindsey with both hands, she pulled him in for a kiss that stole what little air he had left after the abuse to his ribcage and his quick dispatch to the stage.

"Billy, honey, why didn't you tell me you'd be here tonight? And where's that woman o' yours?"

His mouth opened. Closed. Woman? Hair? Billy? The truth hit him like a rock between the eyes and he stood there, mouth hanging slightly open, feeling like a complete moron. Of course, it wasn't the first time he'd been mistaken for his twin. But since he hadn't laid eyes on his brother in over ten years, this particular mix-up took him by surprise. So much for hiding where nobody knew who he was. Before he could get his wits together and protest that he wasn't who they thought he was, somebody shoved a guitar in his hands, and the lady herself tugged him over to the microphone.

She didn't bother introducing him. Apparently, Billy was no stranger to their stage. Then the sax behind him gave a riff, and the band eased into "What'd I Say," and Lindsey found himself going with the flow. Ray Charles had always been more Billy's speed than Lindsey's, but he knew his classics, and with Marva carrying him along, they had a great time.

Not surprisingly, by the end of the song Marva was shooting him questioning looks. He hadn't sung badly, so he knew it wasn't that. He smiled at her. Her eyes narrowed. She took a minute step away, not enough to alarm the audience, and finished the song note by note in harmony with him.

When they finished, he looked around for somewhere to put the guitar, ducking his head a little at the audience hooting and clapping, but paying more attention to the intent look Marva was giving him. She turned to the crowd, gave them a twenty-four carat grin, and called, "Back in ten, darlins!"

Once they were clear of the crowd, she leaned in and gave him a concerned look. "Honey, what's wrong with you tonight? You sound beautiful, but you don't sound like _you_." She took the guitar from him and handed it to a member of the band who was passing them on his way to the bar.

"I'm not exactly the man you think I am, Marva," he said gently. Before he could give her an explanation to wipe away the totally confused look on her face, all his internal sensors went off at once.

Magic. Close. Perhaps demonic in origin. Definitely focused on him.

Instinctively, he moved in front of Marva, taking a protective stance. In that instant, the intensity lessened, and he actually felt the change from actively hostile to guardedly neutral. But he didn't have time to worry about it.

A second presence was also on the scene, and it wasn't the least bit ambivalent. Dark magic of the homicidal kind was loose in the club, and it was coming toward Lindsey. He turned just as his brother came up behind him.

"Hi, Billy," Lindsey tossed at him absently, scanning behind him for the threat. With his attention elsewhere, he never saw the punch coming. Marva barely got out of the way before he ricocheted off the wall where she'd been standing seconds before.

"What on God's green Earth -- " she stuttered. Billy stepped over to stand, fists on hips, glowering down at Lindsey.

"What the hell are _you_ doing here?" he spat.

Lindsey didn't have time to tell him. Still going on instinct, he reached up, grabbed hold of his twin's wrist, and yanked him to the floor at the same time that he leapt to his feet. Putting his trust in the protective wards he'd relied on to save his life for the past decade, he planted his feet solidly and raised his left hand, palm outward. The silver bracelet around his wrist glinted dully in the low light.

Something with power behind it hit him hard enough to jar him despite his ready stance. The spell shattered, scattering in a useless shower of invisible sparks around him, an instant before it would have impacted his brother. Right in the middle of the back. Lindsey knew from the bone-deep ache left over from the magic the bracelet had absorbed that the shock of it would have been lethal.

He wasn't aware of the feral snarl on his face as he searched for the attacker, but the few onlookers who did glance at him looked away again quickly. Lindsey concentrated on the trail of malevolent power, weakening now as the attacker disappeared. The first power he'd sensed didn't disappear, though; it grew stronger until he looked into the midnight-dark eyes of a petite woman in her sixties, standing bare inches from him.

"You being Ayza, now, boy?" she asked softly. He could see centuries in her eyes. Just what he didn't need in the middle of what was already shaping up to be an unpleasant family reunion; the local Vodoun priestess getting caught up in the mess.

"Nothing you need to be concerned about, Mambo," he replied respectfully. She smiled at him, a whole lot of wolf in the expression, but before she could call him on it, Billy got back up off the floor and started to take up where he'd left off. Lindsey sighed and turned to face his brother. Billy's hair was falling in his face, his eyes were blazing, his fists were clenched. He looked ten years younger than Lindsey, not the three minutes Lindsey knew him to be. Lindsey couldn't help smiling.

Bad move.

Billy swung at him and Lindsey reacted before he could check himself. Then Billy was on his knees on the floor, his arm twisted behind his back, calling Lindsey names neither of them had even thought in years. Lindsey started to snarl back when the holy woman shut them both up.

"Boys." The single word carried all the weight of a gavel slamming on a bench. Billy looked away from Lindsey and immediately stopped struggling. Lindsey gave him some slack in return, loosening his hold on Billy's arm.

"Mama Azula! I'm sorry, I didn't know you were here."

Her eyes warmed along with her smile as she reached over and patted Billy's cheek gently. Then her hand raised slowly and approached Lindsey's face.

He let go of Billy abruptly and stepped back two paces, out of her reach. "You don't want to go there, Mambo."

She recognized the warning for what it was, but reached for him anyway. He couldn't step back any further. His back was already against the wall.

"You got the left hand of Ayza on you, child, but your heart's still got some light. This boy gonna need all the light you got."

Her fingers felt like brands against his skin. He started to shiver, unable to break away from her gaze. Her eyes were sharp, judging him.

"You gonna need it too. You got a battle ahead of you, child. Don't you get so lost in the gray you can't find your way out when you need to." Then she touched his forehead with her fingertips, and for an instant everything in the world was clear. Where he was, why he was there, what he had to do. Who he was and how he could make it back to himself. And why he had to try.

Then her hand was gone, and with it the clarity of vision. She was nodding, and there was a bare edge of warmth in the smile she gave him. Reserving judgment, then, not yet ready to condemn or condone. He could live with that. At least she was giving him the benefit of the doubt.

Most people didn't. Hell, even most dead people didn't.

Shaking off thoughts of Angel, Lindsey watched her give Billy a kiss on the cheek, pat Marva's hand, and disappear into the crowd like smoke dissipating in the wind. Feeling a little shaken, both from the encounter with the holy woman and the attack from the unknown hostile, he wasn't ready when Marva shook his shoulder and demanded, "Who _are_ you?"

Billy answered for him. "He's nobody." A world of pissed off in two short words. Lindsey gave him a sardonic look.

"Nobody important," he agreed softly. "Just Billy's big brother." Billy snorted, unimpressed. For a moment, Lindsey missed the closeness of their childhood, when it had been Lindsey and Billy against the world. Until Lindsey had run away, leaving Billy to face the music, and cutting himself off from his twin with as much finality as he had cut himself off from his past. He'd thought he had a reason, a lifetime ago.

In retrospect, it wasn't much of one.

"Can I talk to you, Billy?" He concentrated on his brother, closing out the world. Billy looked at him distrustfully.

"We got nothing to say to one another."

Lindsey opened his mouth to refute that statement when Billy turned on his heel and started to stomp off. A few strides away he whirled back. "Stay the hell away from me. I don't want anything to do with you, and neither does anybody I care about. So just get out of here and go back to hell where you came from!"

With another precise turn on his boot-heel, Billy showed Lindsey his back and stomped all the way out of the club. Lindsey looked around the now completely-silent club. Everyone was staring at him. No one looked friendly.

"Not quite hell," he said calmly. "Just Los Angeles." He took a deep breath and followed his brother out the door.

By the time he made it to the street through the crowd of deliberately obstructive, disapproving people, Billy was nowhere to be seen. Lindsey let out his breath in a long, slow sigh. Something was wrong in the Big Easy, and it was centered around his brother. It might be Billy. Might have something to do with the Vodoun priestess who was watching over his brother. Might just be random demons with a distaste for white country boys singing the blues.

He had a sinking feeling it had nothing to do with any of these things, and everything to do with the past he'd left behind. The second time, when he'd walked out of Hell and Los Angeles both, leaving Wolfram and Hart. If that was the case, then he was in New Orleans for a reason. Whether Billy wanted his protection or not, Lindsey was going to make damned sure nothing hurt him. Human or inhuman.

Enough innocents had suffered because of Lindsey McDonald. It was time for it to stop.

He expected nightmares, maybe even an attack, that night. He took precautions, set out wards, wove spells. Laid down fully dressed except for his shoes, next to the bed. Dagger and gun beneath his pillow, mace beside it. He closed his eyes, waiting for the first warning bell to go off.

The birds calling outside his window the next morning startled him so badly when they woke him he nearly fell out of bed.

Not only had there been no attacks, he hadn't had a dream, much less a portent of doom. No psychic attacks, no physical attacks, not so much as an attack of indigestion. If it hadn't been for the ache in his jaw where Billy'd slugged him, a slight headache centered in his forehead and the residual ache in his left arm, he'd've thought the previous night's activities had been all in his mind.

Idly watching the sidewalk artists setting up in Jackson Square, Lindsey was eating aspirin along with his fresh squeezed orange juice and beignets at Cafe du Monde when he saw the Grolek demon.

Ballsy bastard.

True, most people couldn't see past its human guise, so it wasn't taking that big a risk. But Lindsey knew what he was looking at. Reaching for the sharpened steel pike strapped along his calf, he threw some bills on the table and took out as stealthily as possible after the Grolek. As it turned out, there were some similarities between New Orleans and Los Angeles. No one made any comment and nobody got in the way in either place. And a few of the onlookers knew exactly what was going down.

Lindsey saw two shadows matching his pace with his peripheral vision. They were all heading the same place, triangulating in on the same target. He didn't know if it was the Grolek, or what the Grolek was hunting. Either way, it didn't matter. He'd deal with what he had to deal with when he had to deal with it. His neck was itching again and he had a bad feeling in his belly. It wasn't the beignets.

It was Billy.

His oblivious brother and a gorgeous black woman a few years younger than he were wandering hand in hand down Chartres, utterly absorbed in one another. The Grolek was coming up to them fast. Lindsey saw the air around its hands blur and the guise faded as its native eight inch razor-edged claws extended.

"Billy!" he screamed. His mouth didn't move. As had happened a few times before in his life, his twin heard him without him having to make a sound. Responding to the warning, Billy grabbed the woman and threw her to the sidewalk. Lindsey had to smile at her indignant squawk even as the pike was flying from his own hand, taking the Grolek between the shoulder blades, one of the few unarmored parts of its body.

Grolek didn't have many vulnerabilities. Fortunately it wasn't the first one Lindsey had killed, so he knew where to aim.

The woman's squawk had softened to an angry, confused grumble by the time Lindsey caught up to them. The Grolek had dissolved at the impact of the steel, leaving nothing behind but a smear of light amber fluid and a blunted pike lying on the ground. Lindsey smoothly picked it up and shoved it down the back of his waistband, praying it wouldn't slip. He really didn't need a foot-long pike drenched in demon goo sliding around in his underwear.

Billy ignored him completely and helped the woman to her feet. Lindsey patiently waited for her to get situated, glancing around for the others he'd glimpsed converging on the scene of the attack. They seemed to have disappeared now that the threat was gone. That could either mean that they were after the Grolek, too, and didn't need to stick around now that it was dead ... or they were waiting for Billy to be unprotected again.

Wasn't going to happen.

The woman peered at him, mouth agape, poking Billy in the arm. "Who's he?"

Billy muttered something, probably obscene although Lindsey couldn't hear it clearly, and tried to pull her gently away. She set her heels and gave him a dirty look. Then she stuck her chin in the air, gave Lindsey a challenging, heels-to-hairline glare, and asked directly, "Who are you?"

"Nobody!" Billy forced out, almost overriding Lindsey's softer, "Lindsey McDonald. Billy's brother."

"Great!" She didn't sound impressed. Lindsey didn't know if it was with himself or Billy. Maybe both of them. "First a phantom dad, then a mom who turns out to be a lot nicer than you gave her credit for, now a brother you never bothered to tell me about?"

Oh. It was Billy she wasn't too happy with. Lindsey grinned. Billy glared at him, then glanced at her, abashed.

"He's not worth bothering about."

"He's your mirror image, Billy. A brother you can forget about, if you try hard enough. An identical twin? Seems to me that'd be a little harder to forget!"

Billy looked directly at Lindsey, letting all his scorn show. "Not if you try hard enough."

Lindsey winced. "Please, Billy. We need to talk." He glanced at the woman. "I'm sorry, I don't know who you are." If you can be trusted, he thought. She stepped around Billy, brushing off his attempt to get between them, and held her hand out. She had a firm grip.

"Camille Livingston Ryan, Mr. McDonald. And how did Billy Ryan and Lindsey McDonald get to be twin brothers with different daddies?"

Billy growled, "McDonald's momma's maiden name." Giving up on corralling his wife, he stepped up beside her and glared at Lindsey. "What do you _want_?"

"You're in danger," Lindsey told him bluntly. "I've been in town less than a day and there have been two attacks on you already."

His brother looked at him like he'd lost his mind. Camille didn't look any more convinced. Apparently they hadn't seen the Grolek before he'd killed it. Lindsey sighed.

"Did you know you have a Vodoun priestess keeping you under her protection?"

Camille looked at Billy. Billy looked at Lindsey. "Mama Azula's a friend from way back. Her being around doesn't have anything to do with any danger."

"Where'd you see Mama Azula?" Camille asked him. Billy looked down at his boots.

"Funky Butt," he said almost under his breath.

Camille's eyes widened. Lindsey watched the by-play with interest. "What in the world was she doing in a place like that?"

Billy looked over at her, defensiveness written in every line of his posture. "It's a nice place!"

She didn't look like she was buying it. "For a blues joint, yeah. Not a place Mama Azula usually hangs out." Billy shrugged. Lindsey broke in.

"That's what I'm trying to tell you. There's a threat."

"Funny how it showed up the same time you did," Billy accused him. Lindsey ground his teeth. The accusation rang true. "Far as I can see, the only trouble I got is you, just like always, and if you just fuck off, then I won't have to worry about it!" By the time he finished, he was practically screaming the words in Lindsey's face. Lindsey stood there and took it. Camille looked like she was in shock.

"Please," Lindsey said very quietly, in the wake of the hurricane that was his brother's temper. "Be careful."

"Go to hell!"

With that, Billy took Camille's hand and pushed past Lindsey, dragging her gently behind him. She threw Lindsey a wide-eyed look but didn't argue with her husband. Lindsey had the feeling she was going to have a nice long talk with Billy later, but he also knew where her loyalties were. If he couldn't get through to Billy, then he couldn't count on Camilla, and he had two people to look after, not one.

Life kept getting more and more interesting.

The third attack nearly killed him. Billy was heading into a little club on Dumaine when Lindsey lost sight of him. For an instant, his attention was diverted from the spell he was barely holding steady, and the surges of psychic energy he'd been repelling from his brother broke through his shield.

It felt like snakes were feeding on his brain.

Venom flowed down the inside of his skull. His fingers curled, but he kept from clawing out his own eyes by the exceptional application of sheer will. Beneath the agony he felt his nerves twitch with sense memory. There was something intimately familiar about the attack. He'd seen it before.

He'd used it before.

He barely kept back a scream, concentrating fiercely on his chant, hoping all the time that he'd identified the source correctly and it really was Egyptian hieroglyphs he'd seen tattooed on the demon's hand. "Emshee! Mat! Emshee min hena! Inshallah, emshee! Mat!"

Lindsey could feel his strength draining away. Only desperation was keeping him on his feet. Then the venom from the snakes darting at him through his eyes and mouth suddenly diluted. Weaving around his chant was a second, minor key spell sung in a language he vaguely recognized as Yoruba. The only words he could make out were "caplata," "Dambala," "Aida-wedo" and "Ayza."

In response to the infusion of strength his chant steadied, and the attacks eased off until they were bearable again. Gulping for breath between words, he turned his head and caught dark eyes staring at him from the shadows of the building across the street. The holy woman stared back at him, her mouth moving, her hands floating gently in front of her body.

He looked away and actually saw, for the first time, a protective barrier around the entryway and windows to the club. It shimmered in blue, orange, gold and green, sealing the club, stopping the attack dead at the threshold. His voice died in his throat. The last of the stinging bites loosened in his mind, and his breath caught on a sob.

They'd won. He'd nearly lost.

He had the answer to his question.

Billy was the target of opportunity. Lindsey was the ultimate target. Looked like once a man belonged to Wolfram and Hart, he never left.

Ever.

 

The next two weeks he waged a losing battle. He knew he was losing, could feel it every time one of the minions of his ex-employers came close to killing his brother. Every time his personal defenses slipped and the attack instantly switched targets, every time he went back to his hotel room a little more drained, a little weaker. Mama Azula saved Billy's life, and on occasion saved Lindsey's, but her powerful Loa were centered on Billy and Camille. Lindsey was still on probation as far as the Vodoun priestess was concerned, and he couldn't blame her.

After all, if it wasn't for Lindsey, Billy wouldn't be in danger.

For a brief, insane moment he considered leaving, but he knew it wouldn't do any good. Even before he'd realized why he was heading to New Orleans he'd been on his way to protect his brother. They'd found his Achilles' heel and they weren't going to stop trying to sever it if he simply left. They'd still follow him.

They'd kill Billy first.

So Lindsey did what he could, where he could, when he could, and tried not to think about the fact that he was losing not only the battles, but the war.

 

"We're going where?" Wesley sounded incredulous.

"New Orleans. And it's not _us_. Just me," Angel told him firmly.

"Excuse me," Cordelia broke in loudly. "Who's the Seer, here? Oh, that rhymes. Anyway, you can't go without me. How would you know where to go?"

Before Angel could answer her, a vision -- the third in the past four days, all with the same gory subject matter -- smacked her between the eyes and knocked her off her feet.

Again.

Snakes everywhere, and God, but she hated snakes. They were biting a man, who was naked and bleeding but still fighting, waving his hands, flames flying from his fingertips. Each time she saw him the flames got thinner and died faster.

Probably not a good sign.

The snakes were biting and they stung like crazy. Her brain felt like it was melting and she really should know this guy but he wouldn't look up, kept looking at the snakes, not that she could blame him. She was doing a lot of looking at the snakes herself. She really, really hated snakes. More than Indiana Jones did, she hated snakes.

There were other people there, but the were on the edge of the snake pit. Another man, bleeding in places but not knowing it, hair falling in his face, his back turned to the man in the pit. A woman, glowing so much Cordelia couldn't tell what she looked like, just a white-blue-orangey light that made her brain hurt, as if it didn't hurt enough with all the damned snakes. Another woman, a pretty black woman hiding behind the man with the long hair. And music, eerie screamy music, like somebody was playing Iggy Pop and Nine Inch Nails backward with a lot of saxophones being tortured to death in the background.

It was one of her weirder visions.

She could feel Angel's cool chest under her cheek, and it felt good, because she felt like she was burning up, and he was a nice cool wall to lie against so when she actually did catch on fire he could put her out. The snakes were crawling up her arms and legs, and the bites were sharp, and they hurt. Then she was in the pit, but for once she wasn't the man, she was in front of him, and his face lifted to hers, and his mouth was open and his eyes were closed. She leaned forward to kiss him and his mouth closed and his eyes opened and they were bright blue and full of pain, then streaming red, and he was dying from the inside out, and she knew him.

"Lindsey!" She didn't know she screamed. She didn't know anything, because she'd passed out, and finally, finally the damned snakes went away.

 

Angel climbed out of the trunk in a dark alley a few blocks away from the French Quarter. Wesley smirked as he brushed the wrinkles out of his clothes but maintained a dignified silence when Angel raised a brow at him. Gunn sprawled at his ease in the back seat, nodding his head in absent response to something Cordelia was gushing about from the passenger seat.

"Food?" asked Angel in an aside to Wes. Wesley shook his head.

"Shopping."

"Of course. What was I thinking?"

"Food's next, no doubt." Wes sounded more than a little enthused about that prospect himself.

Angel walked over to lean on the side of the car next to Gunn. Cordelia must have been going on for awhile, making the trip seem longer than it actually was, and that was plenty long enough. Gunn actually looked kind of happy to see him.

"So, we gonna hit some spots first?" he asked Angel, cutting across Cordelia's paean of praise for the jewelry stores in the French Quarter.

"Jewelry?" Angel asked Gunn. Then to Cordy, "They sell jewelry? I thought they did touristy stuff."

Cordelia sniffed at him. "They do everything in New Orleans," she informed him haughtily. Gunn snorted, then covered his mouth with his hand and tried to look innocent. He failed. Cordelia stared at him, confused. Wes shook his head. Angel cleared his throat.

"Uhm, guys, we do have a mission, you know. Might be a good idea to -- " Cordelia let out a muffled shriek and curled up in a ball, nearly conking herself on the dashboard in the process. " -- find out what's up with that," Angel finished, holding on to Cordelia's head as she thrashed about, blessing vampiric speed for getting to her before she managed to really hurt herself.

"Music, ouch," she whimpered. An address on Bourbon Street followed, along with a few editorial comments on the general ickiness of serpents and the need to get a move on.

They made an odd little group as they rushed through the crowded streets, but few people gave them a second look. A frail-looking woman held up by one dark and two very pale men was not, apparently, an uncommon sight in the French Quarter. Of course, the fact that Cordelia was dressed in very little and was draped artistically in Gunn's arms no doubt helped. Anyone who wondered probably thought she charged by the hour and gave a group discount.

Angel shook off the thought and the internal snicker that accompanied it, concentrating on lurking threats. There was the taste of strange magic in the air, hot and humid and heavy on his tongue, unlike anything he'd ever tasted. It made his fangs itch in his gums, even though it felt benevolent and didn't seem to be directed at him. It did, however, get stronger the closer they got to the site of Cordelia's vision.

From the outside the place didn't look like much. A tiny bar in a row of other tiny bars, people wandering past with drinks in their hands and smiles on their faces. Happy or pretending damned hard to be. Angel went through the door first, then stopped dead a few paces inside.

Lindsey was up on-stage, with a full band backing him and a lovely black woman crooning along beside him. His hair looked different, way too long, and he didn't have his bracelet on. He was wearing a tank top and tight jeans, and sweat was dripping along his collarbone. For an instant Angel was hit with hunger so strong his knees nearly buckled, and it took him a moment to figure out that it wasn't bloodlust as much as it was the pure need to run his tongue along that line of sweat all the way up and all the way down.

Angel blinked.

There was no scar around Lindsey's right forearm.

And the woman was kissing him between lyrics.

Now, Angel believed that Lindsey could find a band, a woman, and a gig in the month or so he'd been gone. He might even get a hair weave. But there was no way the scar would just disappear.

Ergo, his early education asserted, this must not be Lindsey.

Angel swung around to see his various friends all standing staring slack-jawed at the stage. Caught up in the performance of the man they thought they recognized but didn't, because it wasn't him, they completely missed the real Lindsey leaning against the wall next to the front door.

Staring at the stage.

Scar and all.

Not only that, Lindsey's hands were moving, and so was his mouth. He wasn't playing air guitar and he wasn't singing under his breath. He was weaving spells. Protective enchantments from the look of them, and every one of them was aimed at the boy who looked just like him up on the stage.

Angel slipped around his friends, now acting ridiculously like groupies, and walked over to Lindsey.

"I didn't know you were into cloning," he said sweetly.

Lindsey jumped six inches in the air. Interestingly, neither his chant nor his hands missed a beat. Angel took advantage of his erstwhile enemy's distraction to stare closely at him.

He looked like hell.

There were lines at the corners of his eyes and bracketing his mouth that hadn't been there when Angel had ushered him out of LA. His eyes were bright, but it was a feverish brightness, not a healthy light. He'd lost weight he couldn't afford to lose, and his clothes hung on him, giving the impression that a stiff wind would knock him over. There were hollows at his temples, under his cheekbones, and along his throat.

If the boy on the stage made Angel hungry, Lindsey made him absolutely ravenous.

Stamping down the inappropriate reaction, at least until they'd gotten to the bottom of Cordelia's recently-acquired preoccupation with snakes, he leaned closer. From the sound of it, and the slowing of the hand motions, Lindsey was winding down. Probably a good thing. His voice was starting to break. If Angel was any judge, and after several decades of torturing people until their voices gave out he _was_, Lindsey had been chanting for awhile.

"What the fuck do you want?" Lindsey whispered at him. Angel leaned closer. The whisper was thready.

You, he almost answered, but caught himself in time. "Cordy had a vision." He offered another truth instead. "You were the star. Well, you and a bunch of snakes." Lindsey started but controlled it well. Angel continued nastily, "Personally I don't know how she could tell the difference, but she did pick you out of the lineup, so here we are."

"Shit!" Lindsey hissed, much like one of the snakes Cordy had reported seeing. Then he shoved past Angel, heading for the stage. His movements weren't as graceful as they usually were, and he stumbled. Angel caught him automatically.

He was trembling.

It wasn't only exhaustion, although he was definitely at the end of his rope. He was also under attack. Angel could feel the energy sliding over his own skin, seeking and finding entrance into Lindsey. The power sizzling through the magic was dark, soul-sucking, and he instinctively retreated from it. When he unwrapped his hands from Lindsey's arms, Lindsey shot past him toward the stage.

Five feet from it, Lindsey collapsed. Up on stage, so did the boy who looked like him. The woman shouted and went to her knees beside him. He looked like he was having a seizure.

Lindsey wasn't moving at all.

Dimly, Angel heard Wesley calling to Gunn and Cordelia to take his hands. Then he started chanting, words that sounded familiar to what Lindsey'd been saying when Angel interrupted him. Angel didn't pay much attention.

He was too busy picking Lindsey up off the floor and getting him away from whatever the hell it was that was going after him.

Wesley's voice raised above the confusion of the bar patrons, yelling at one another and the stage, adding to the din. A stranger's voice blended with Wes', an equally strong, liquid-accented melody weaving through Wesley's words. The boy on the stage stopped convulsing, and the band gathered around until Angel lost sight of him. Lindsey was lying still against his chest.

Deciding that the clone could look after himself for awhile, he forced his way through the crowd to stand next to his friends. Wesley looked pinched about the lips. Gunn and Cordelia looked unexpectedly tired and more than a little confused. Angel could relate.

"Hey," he greeted them.

They looked down at Lindsey, back at the stage, then back at Angel, heads moving together as if tied by marionette's string. Then they all started to ask questions, voices overlapping. Angel shook his head. There was no time. They had to get out of there.

"C'mon," he urged them. Wes took a second look at Lindsey lying like a dead man in Angel's arms and started muttering to himself. Gunn and Cordelia looked at one another, then flanked Angel as they all turned and headed for the street. Wesley trailed behind, chanting under his breath. Angel could still feel the magic, but it was muted now, suffused. It made him feel slimy.

Had to be Wolfram and Hart. Nobody else he knew could make him feel like he needed a bath just by being in the same vicinity. And he didn't know of anyone else who would want to kill Lindsey.

Along with anyone who had the misfortune to look like Lindsey.

They made it back to the convertible in good time. It was a tight, uncomfortable fit. Wesley drove, with Gunn riding shotgun and Cordelia and Angel in the back seat with Lindsey curled up on Angel's lap. He was breathing, but he looked even worse than he had when Angel first saw him, and he hadn't woken up yet.

"Hey, Wes," he called, staring with some concern down at the top of Lindsey's head, all he could see from that angle. "What kind of magic does this kind of damage?"

There was a long moment of silence. Gunn was reaching over to prod him when Wesley threw him a slightly irritated look and gave Angel an answer. A partial answer, anyway.

"I'm not completely sure. It's a blend, I think, from what we saw. Attack from more than one quarter, using more than one type of magic, at the same time. Also, we were assisted by a mambo, a female Vodun priest -- "

Before he could complete his sentence, Cordelia squeaked. "Voodoo? Like dolls with pins and zombies and shrunken heads and stuff?" She sounded as fascinated as she did appalled. Wesley sighed heavily.

"Think Africa, not Hollywood, Cordelia, if you can."

She grumbled back at him, but still sat with her shoulders hunched up to her ears as if she expected zombies to come out of the darkness and eat them. Given what she'd fought in Los Angeles, not to mention on the Hellmouth, it was a reasonable assumption.

"This mambo strengthened the protective spell I threw about the young man on the stage. I didn't see Lindsey, or I would have attempted to assist him as well."

"I think he was doing the same thing you were." Angel shifted the weight on his lap, ignoring the fact that he was enjoying it more than he ought. "At least, what he was saying sounded a lot like what you were saying when he was saying it ..." he trailed off. Gunn looked at him like he'd lost his mind and Cordy stared at him like _she_ was the one who was lost. He cleared his throat again. "Anyway, I think that's what he was doing when I interrupted him."

"You what?" Cordelia's voice rose an octave on the last word. "All week I'm having visions of snakes eating him and you come up and knock down the fence?"

"Fence?" Gunn asked. Now _he_ looked lost.

"Metaphorically," Wesley interjected. All three conscious passengers stared at him. It was his turn to clear his throat. "Anyway, the important thing now is to get him to a safe place and find out what's going on with him so that we can put an end to it. Right?"

"Right," slurred a new voice from the general vicinity of Angel's right shoulder. Although Lindsey quickly slumped again, he seemed to be breathing a little more easily.

"That's settled, then," Cordelia proclaimed.

"It is?" asked Gunn, glancing back at Angel. Angel just shrugged and held on to Lindsey. He had a feeling he'd be doing that a lot in the future.

Somehow, he didn't find the prospect as daunting as he probably should.

 

Lindsey knew he'd lost when he woke up, then wondered how'd he'd managed to wake up if he'd lost. Because surely he'd be dead? He looked around for Holland. If he was in Hell, or back in the thrall of Wolfram and Hart, Holland would certainly be there. His wandering gaze got stuck on a solid figure sitting in a chair, looking back at him.

Not Holland.

"Angel?" Incredulous, Lindsey struggled to sit up. The blanket tucked in tightly around him pinned him to the cushions and his own weakness betrayed him. Cursing the pounding in his head and his watery muscles, he subsided back against the couch and glared with all his might at Angel.

Angel didn't look too impressed. But then, he never did.

Before Lindsey could ask him what the son of a bitch was doing in Louisiana when he should be back in LA, the snakes struck again. The attack caught him completely unprepared. Lindsey's hands went to his head as he curled up, crying out in agony. Dimly, he was aware of movement around him : Angel's hands on his shoulders, holding his thrashing body against the bulky couch; Cordelia's voice whimpering in counterpoint to his own; Wesley asking questions nobody answered because the only two who could were busy fighting for their mental balance and couldn't understand his words.

Slowly, the biting agony eased off as whatever Wesley was doing wedged a shield between himself and the attackers. It felt different than the spells the mambo had used, but then, it wasn't rebounding to him after helping Billy. It was kind of nice to be the first protected, for a change.

The thought hit him all over again that his brother wouldn't need to be protected if it wasn't for the fact that the bastards were after Lindsey, and he buried his face in the cushion and wished that the world would just go away. It wasn't the first time he'd wished that. Probably wouldn't be the last. And it wouldn't work.

Wishing never did.

Only hard work and determination ever got anything done. Giving himself an internal pep talk liberally laced with cuss words, Lindsey forced himself upright. Dropped his hands to his knees. Pried his eyes open. And found himself leaning shoulder to shoulder with Cordelia, who looked as wiped out as he felt.

"Damn," he whispered. She opened one bloodshot eye and stared wildly back at him.

"You can say that again," Gunn groused. "Thought them damned visions would go away once we saved your sorry butt. Looks like there's more to it than that."

"His sorry ... he isn't quite saved yet," Wesley responded. He looked a little frayed around the edges. Lindsey knew the feeling. Fighting off psychic attacks took a lot out of a man.

"Billy? The vision?" Urgency prodded him. His twin was in trouble and they were all sitting on their asses being useless. He tried to lever himself off the couch and his knees gave before he was upright.

"He's right," Cordelia proclaimed, jumping up with an ease that made Lindsey want to smack her. "It was the other one in the vision. He needs help!"

"Him, too?" Gunn looked skeptical.

"Billy's an innocent in this," Lindsey growled at him. Wesley nodded, turned on his heel and headed for the door. Gunn and Cordelia exchanged looks, shrugged and turned to follow him. At the threshold, Gunn glanced over his shoulder.

"No handy tunnels 'round here. Got another hour or so 'til dark. You gonna stay with the lawyer, or come with us and make like a torch?" He had a wicked grin on his face as he teased Angel. The vampire responded exactly as Lindsey expected.

"While I'd really _prefer_ to spontaneously combust, I guess I'll stay here and beat out of Lindsey exactly what's going on."

"Have fun!" Gunn told him and followed the other two out to take care of the threat to Billy.

Lindsey glared at Angel, who smirked back at him.

"So, what's going on?" Angel asked bluntly. Lindsey gritted his teeth and discarded one excessively verbose and two smart-ass responses before settling on an answer.

"Wolfram and Hart are trying to destroy me. Not just kill, destroy. They've targeted my twin brother, who I haven't had any contact with in years, as bait. He's a total innocent in all this. I can take care of myself," a statement that was becoming more blatantly untrue with each attack, but he still clung to it, "but Billy needs to be protected."

"You don't look like you can protect anybody, much less yourself and your brother." Angel looked him over critically. "You look like something the cat dragged in. And coughed up."

"Thank you for the complimen -- " He choked on the words and his eyes rolled up in his head as his hands clawed at his hair. The goddamned snakes were back, and he hadn't caught his breath from the first one. Too soon!

The convulsions rocked him back against the cushions, and this time Angel couldn't hold him still. Lindsey saw through red-streaked vision as Angel climbed first onto the couch, then on top of him, wrapping his arms and legs around him, trying to keep him from shaking to pieces. While he appreciated the thought, it didn't do a hell of a lot of good against the snakes that were chewing away at his brain.

Then a musical chant wove around him, and one by one the snakes fell away. The same rainbow of protective energy that had sealed entry to the club washed over his eyes, cleaning away the blood, leaving behind peace. For the first time in days, Lindsey completely relaxed as all the pain bled away.

"Oh, god," he sighed into Angel's shoulder. "Thank you, Mama Azula."

"Whose mama?" Angel asked, oblivious to the presence behind him until she answered. Lindsey felt Angel jump.

"That be me, old one."

Faster than Lindsey's eye could follow, though he wouldn't claim the same for Azula, Angel turned, planted himself in front of the couch in a defensive position between Lindsey and any possible threat, and readied himself for attack. Then he stared down at the small black woman in the brightly colored dress who barely reached mid-chest on him, and paused. Lindsey couldn't help grinning. Even Angel's _back_ looked confused. He could imagine what Angel's face looked like.

"The unholy guardin' the unholy guardian. That takes some thinkin' on." Her voice sounded whimsical, but Lindsey heard the steel beneath it.

Holding on to the arm of the couch, he pulled himself around until he could see both Angel and Mama Azula. Addressing the priestess first, he said sincerely, "Thank you."

She nodded at him, spared him a brief glance that was warmer than he expected, and returned her regard to Angel. "You a strange one, ain't you." It wasn't a question.

Angel shrugged one shoulder and gave her his most charming smile, not a fang in sight. "I imagine you've seen stranger." It sounded like a compliment. She cocked her head to one side and looked him up and down.

"No," she told him abruptly. His smile wavered. "Never seen one of the undead with the spirit of the living still in him." Then she glanced over at Lindsey. "Seldom seen one of the living with so little spirit left to him, neither, so you two be makin' a good pair."

"We're not a pair," Lindsey protested automatically at the same time Angel asked, "A pair of what?"

She smiled, the flash of teeth startling in her solemn face. "You two of a kind, children. Only way you gonna make it through this is side by side." The smile disappeared, and her eyes darkened. Lindsey shivered. Angel instinctively edged closer to him, although whether it was to protect him or hide behind him, Lindsey didn't know. "You can't kill the beast by cutting off his hands. You got to go to the heart. Cut it out, or you will never know peace, and the blood of innocents will be on your hands."

Once again showing the worst timing, because Lindsey really wanted to question Azula now that she'd started talking to him, the door to the suite broke open and four Tasker demons rushed in. If he'd had any doubts, seeing the Firm's favorite thugs out for blood would have dismissed them. Angel threw himself into the fray, and bodies started tumbling everywhere. Behind the Taskers was a Muhlaw sorcerer, and Lindsey yelled, "Shit!" as he hastily gathered what little magical strength he had left to counter the attack he knew was coming.

A small, very strong hand on his right wrist stopped him. It burned where the fingers brushed his scar. He looked down at it, then over at Azula's face. She looked sympathetic and revolted. He understood both reactions.

"You help your man," she instructed him. "I take care of the serpent." Then she took her hand off his arm and turned to face the Muhlaw.

Not stopping to think about Angel either being his or needing his help, Lindsey left her to it. She was more than capable. Grabbing a lamp from a nearby end table as a makeshift club, he waded into the fight until he was at Angel's back. Over the sound of demons roaring, furniture and bones breaking, and his own harsh panting, Lindsey heard the reassuringly steady flow of the priestess calling on her Loa for help and protection, offering them the blood of the hostile demons in return.

The thought struck Lindsey as he was ducking out of the way for Angel to stab one of the Taskers with another one's horn that he was glad it wasn't a full-on ritual. He'd hate to have to sit down to the feast afterward. Tasker tasted like crap. Or should, if the blood splashed across his face was any indication.

With two down and two to go, Lindsey took up a discarded hand ax and swung it over his head, distracting one of the remaining Taskers. Avoiding the serrated scales along its back, Lindsey grabbed its torso with both hands and swung it around, using it as a shield between himself and the last one. Angel snarled, game face coming out as he used all his strength to wrench his opponent's armored head completely around on its neck. The dull snap echoed through the room. The last demon turned on him, finally giving Lindsey access to the only vulnerable spot on a Tasker -- the small of the back where the heart beat. One hack with all his weight behind it and the Tasker fell with a spray of purple blood at Angel's feet.

Both turned to face the Muhlaw sorcerer, caught in a web of his own spells turned against him by the Vodoun holy woman. Angel kicked out and the sorcerer's jaw shattered. Before he could follow up, a vortex formed around him. Lindsey lunged sideways and caught Angel, pulling him back from the swirl of magic. They landed in a heap together on the floor, barely out of range as the Muhlaw was literally sucked away, back to the dimension where he belonged. If the lack of light in his eyes was any indication it wouldn't do him any good. He'd been dead before his return journey began.

"Get off me," Angel grumbled. Lindsey tore his eyes from the door and glanced around the trashed hotel room looking for Mama Azula. She was nowhere in sight. He didn't move. He was perfectly comfortable right where he was lying.

Inhumanly strong hands lifted him straight up in the air, and Lindsey finally glanced down at Angel. "You like lifting weights?" Angel sneered at him.

"You don't weigh anything. You're a feather. What, Wolfram and Hart freeze your bank account so you've been starving?"

Lindsey shrugged carelessly, not an easy thing to do half-draped and half-suspended over another person, but he managed. "Not hungry much lately."

"Too busy spreading your misfortune around to bother with eating?" Angel asked him with another irritating smirk. Lindsey didn't see any humor in the truth.

The truth could well get his brother killed.

Fighting Angel's hold, Lindsey growled, "Get the fuck away from me! Let me go!"

The look on Angel's face was priceless. "What?" he asked uncertainly. He didn't let go, however. Lindsey could feel the bruises coming up already from where Angel's fingers were clamped around his arms.

"Not that you give a shit, but I've been doing everything I can to make damned sure my brother doesn't pay for my sins -- again! -- and I'm losing the god-damned battle, hell, the whole fuckin' war -- " To Lindsey's horror, he started to choke up, and he could feel tears coming to his eyes. There was no way in hell he wanted anyone to see him this weak, especially Angel, and he lowered his head, fighting as hard as he could, kicking and wriggling to get away.

"Lindsey." Angel's voice was more gentle than he'd ever heard it. Lindsey couldn't take gentleness. Not now. Not without coming completely undone. He clenched his jaw and struggled harder. "Stop it," Angel told him, still gently. Then his arms moved, drawing him down against Angel's chest. "Stop it now, Lindsey. It's okay. You can stop fighting now."

"Can't," Lindsey muttered. It was muffled against the side of Angel's neck. "Can't ever stop fighting. They'll win then and Billy'll be dead and maybe Camille too and they didn't do anything to deserve this -- "

Long fingers caught him under the chin, raising his face until he was looking at Angel as he babbled, unable to stop himself now that he'd started. Angel stared first at his lips, then at his eyes. Lindsey tried to bite his tongue, tried to stop showering Angel with details the vampire had made clear didn't matter, when Angel leaned forward and licked the trail of a tear from the underside of Lindsey's jaw to the corner of his eye.

Lindsey's voice broke.

Angel didn't pull back, but repeated the action on the other side of his face, cleaning away Lindsey's tears with his tongue. Lindsey realized he was panting when it was all he could hear, and he gulped air, trying to calm himself down. Angel drew back far enough to look in his eyes again, then leaned down and kissed him, just as he was opening his mouth to ask Angel what the devil he thought he was doing.

From the feel of it, Angel knew exactly what he was doing. Lindsey didn't. Angel kissed like he fought, with everything he had, using centuries of skill. His tongue invaded precisely, overcoming any resistance Lindsey might have given before Lindsey could think to give it. His hands followed suit, soothing where they had confined, supporting with restrained strength. Lindsey found himself conquered before he knew he was in danger of invasion.

His shirt had been torn in the fracas with the Tasker demons, and Angel made the most of the tears. Slipping two fingers under Lindsey's collar, he ripped the shirt from neck to hem with one sharp tug. Lindsey grunted with surprise, the sound swallowed by Angel's questing tongue. Then those cool, strong hands were exploring his chest, gliding over muscles, thumb rubbing circles over a nipple, fingers sliding along his ribs, firmly enough to caress and not tickle.

The stray thought struck him that this was inevitable, that he and Angel had been shadow-boxing around this from the moment they'd met, and that it was fitting that they should finally come together on the floor in the midst of carnage from a battle with hostile demons after fighting for their lives. Carpet rubbed against his skin and Lindsey opened eyes he didn't remember closing to look up at Angel.

Three things came to him simultaneously. Angel had turned them over and was now lying over Lindsey, stropping against him like a huge cat. Somewhere along the line Angel'd gotten Lindsey's pants and his own open, and the contrasting heat of Lindsey's erection against the cool firmness of Angel's was quickly driving him insane. And with the kind of luck he'd been having with timing lately, this would be the perfect moment for Wesley, Cordelia and Gunn to traipse in, probably with Billy, Camille and Mama Azula along for the show.

Then Angel took hold of Lindsey's erection and began to move his hand, and every thought Lindsey had imploded into a tiny white light at the center of his brain. He was coming before he was ready, his head falling back and Angel's mouth at his throat. No fangs, and he didn't know whether to be thankful or regretful for that.

Angel held him through the shaking that followed, moving against him, and Lindsey reached down, wrapping his fingers around Angel and squeezing gently. Angel growled, a short, cut-off sound, and Lindsey automatically squeezed harder until he was tugging almost brutally on Angel's erection. If he'd thought about it he might have been appalled. As it was, Angel hissed, "yes!" at him and jerked against him, and it was finished.

Trying to breathe under a couple hundred pounds of literal deadweight, Lindsey stared up at the ceiling and absently licked the spill off his palm. It tasted odd, thin, coppery. Not like his own, or the few men he'd gone down on. He kept licking. When his hand was clean, he dropped it to Angel's shoulder and rubbed the bunched muscles there soothingly. The silence asked for explanation. Since he had none to give for the present, he gave one for the past. Not that Angel asked, or, apparently, cared. But he had to get the words out, for himself if no one else.

"We were sharecropper's kids," he told the ceiling softly. Angel didn't even twitch. "Momma had enough after the baby died, and she took off with Emily and Kathleen. Billy and I were older. We could take care of ourselves."

"How old were you?" Angel's voice was as quiet as his own. It blended with his tale, a continuation, not an interruption.

"Eleven," he answered. Angel shifted, wrapping his arms loosely around Lindsey. "We moved around a lot, wherever there was work. Me and Billy against the world. When Daddy couldn't get work in the fields he'd sing in whatever bar would let him. Time I was sixteen, I knew I had to get out of there. Billy said we should stay. First time we ever really fought." The memory of that single, soul-destroying rift made his eyes sting, fifteen years later.

"Didn't have any money, so I stole some. Broke into the safe at the farm we were working on. Didn't know they had a surveillance camera. Took off that night." He had to swallow before he could go on. Angel's arms tightened a fraction around him. Lindsey's hand rubbed circles on Angel's shoulder.

"Three years later I got into law school. Tried to find Billy to let him know I'd made it. He was serving eight to ten in the state pen for robbery. They had me on tape, but with no me around and him with no alibi, they put him away for it." Lindsey's head fell back against the carpet and he closed his eyes. "That semester I sold what was left of my soul to Wolfram and Hart. I didn't have the balls to go back and get my brother out of jail, so I let him sit there for years while I ... escaped."

"Exchanged one hell for another," Angel suggested. Lindsey took a deep breath.

"By the time I was in solid with the Firm Billy'd been paroled. I tracked down an address for him, sent a draft for the entire amount of money I'd stolen plus twenty per cent to him, no return address. It took him almost a year before he got desperate enough to cash it." The breath came out in a rush. "He knew blood money when he saw it. I had no more contact with him until I came to New Orleans. I ran away and left him holding the bag once. I won't do it again."

"I bet it wasn't the easiest reunion." Angel shifted against him until Lindsey had to meet his eye. Lindsey chuckled, a bitter little sound.

"He knocked me flat on my ass." Lindsey met Angel's wry grin with one of his own. "Then I had to toss him on his in order to get him out of the way of a psychic attack. Since then, he's refused to talk to him. And no," he tapped Angel hard on the shoulder to stop the question he could see forming on Angel's lips, "I don't blame him. I blame myself. I got us into this mess and I'll get us out of it."

Angel leaned forward and kissed him again. When Lindsey caught his breath, he asked as indignantly as he could -- not very, since he was winded -- "What was that for?"

"You got us into this mess but _we'll_ get us out." Angel looked pleased with himself. Lindsey scowled at him.

"Look, just 'cause we fooled around a little -- "

Angel moved against him again, more urgently, catching him by surprise and taking away what little breath he had. "This is more than fooling around a little, Lindsey," Angel informed him. "This is something ..." he trailed off and Lindsey looked a question at him. Angel shrugged the shoulder Lindsey wasn't rubbing. "Well, I don't really know what this is, but it's more than a little, and neither one of us is fooling."

Lindsey opened his mouth to challenge that statement, but no words would come. Angel had a point. Lindsey didn't know what it was, either, but it felt inevitable, which was more than a little unsettling, given their history. Before he could put his misgivings into words, Angel stiffened.

"Oh, boy," he muttered, then kissed Lindsey swiftly. "Get dressed. Company's coming."

They got themselves untangled and scrabbled for their clothing. Lindsey snorted when he saw what was left of his shirt. Holding the rags up for Angel's inspection, he shook his head and grinned. Angel rummaged in his duffel bag.

"Try this." He tossed a tee shirt Lindsey's way and Lindsey shrugged into it.

They were decently covered if a little rumpled by the time the gang tromped in the door. Lindsey, at least, was flushed. Angel looked smug. If he'd been any moreso, Lindsey thought sourly, he'd be purring. Might as well have a flashing neon sign over his head saying 'just got laid.'

Happily, Angel's group had seen that look before in conjunction with mayhem, not sex, so they gave no indication of noticing anything untoward. Lindsey glanced at the small pile of Tasker corpses he'd completely forgotten while rolling around on the floor with Angel.

Well, maybe sex wouldn't be the first thing he'd think of either coming in on that scene. He looked over at Angel.

Then again, maybe it would.

Shaking off his newfound preoccupation, he asked Wesley, "Is Billy okay?"

"For the moment," Wesley answered. He sounded as tired as he looked, which was exhausted. Lindsey shot a look at Gunn, then Cordelia. They looked punchy, and they'd only been at this for a day. There was no way in hell they were going to win this war fighting it on this battlefield.

"This isn't going to work," Angel said, startling Lindsey by echoing his thoughts. Wesley started to look indignant, and Gunn was ready to back him up on it, when Cordelia made a noise like a mouse getting stepped on and reeled sideways. Angel was a blur at Lindsey's side as he moved, and he caught her before she toppled over onto a Tasker demon. Lindsey's hands and lips were moving before Angel even got to her.

Just in time.

He didn't know if it was the great sex or the presence of allies, but the attack was contained fairly quickly. That made him nervous. He looked over at Wesley, who was looking back at him with a concerned expression.

"Billy," they said in unison.

Cordelia refused to be left behind, so Gunn helped her to the car. Night had fallen while they'd been fighting Taskers and getting naked together, so Angel drove. Lindsey gave directions. Gunn and Wesley propped Cordelia up between them in the back seat. She was complaining bitterly, and loudly, about missed shopping opportunities because of stupid snakes, when they pulled up to the building where Billy and Camille lived.

They weren't the first on the scene. At each corner of the building stood a man, candles at his feet. Wesley shivered so hard Lindsey could feel him through the frame of the car.

"The houngan are on our side," Lindsey told him as they climbed out onto the sidewalk and headed up the stairs. "Mama Azula is watching over Billy."

"Whose mama? And what's a hogin?" Gunn asked, unknowingly echoing Angel's earlier question.

"Not mama," Wesley corrected absently, staring at the woman who stood waiting for them at the top of the stairs. "Mama. She's the mambo, the Vodun priestess who assisted us earlier. The houngan are Vodun priests. In this case, they're protecting Billy and his family. Aren't you, madam?" he asked politely.

She gave him another one of her rare, gleaming smiles. "Yeah, wizard, we watchin' over the child and his wife. They be ours, and we look after our own." She shot Lindsey a look, then gave Angel a longer one. The smile grew a little wicked. "Like you do."

Lindsey blushed. Angel looked at his shoes, then over at the wall. Wesley and Cordelia looked clueless. Gunn whistled. Lindsey cleared his throat.

"Is Billy okay?"

Azula looked over at him, losing her smile. "For now, child. But you got to do what you have to do, and make an end to this."

He nodded. "First I have to see my brother. Make sure he'll be all right while I do ... what has to be done."

"Which would be what, precisely?" Wesley cut in. Angel answered.

"Tell you all about it on the way back to LA."

Cordelia started to whine about shopping. Lindsey stepped away from the group and knocked on the door to Billy's loft. Camille answered. She looked slightly appalled at the motley collection of strangers facing her. The look intensified when most of them smiled at her. Lindsey couldn't really blame her. He tried his best to look harmless.

"Let us in, honey," Mama Azula said before he could speak.

Camille leaned her head down for a peck on the cheek then stepped back as first Azula, then Lindsey, then Angel and the rest of the pack flowed in. They filled the room but it was oddly silent. Billy looked up from his perch on a stool, guitar balanced on his knee, his welcoming look hardening as he saw Lindsey.

"We need to talk, Billy," Lindsey said quietly.

"We haven't got anything to say," Billy shot back. Lindsey clenched his hands into fists and stuffed them into his pockets.

"Please."

"Go to hell." Billy wasn't yielding an inch.

"I did," Lindsey answered honestly. "When I left, it followed me." Billy watched him intently. "Now it's after you, and if we're going to keep it away, you're going to have to listen."

Billy set the guitar carefully aside and slowly got up off the stool. Stalking over to stand toe to toe with his twin, he glared at Lindsey. Lindsey let him stare his fill.

"I've taken enough because of you," Billy finally said. His voice sounded like his throat was full of gravel. "I don't have to do a damned thing you say, and I sure as hell don't have to listen to any more of your lies."

"For Camille's sake if not your own, you do." This time, Lindsey was prepared for Billy to swing at him. He closed his eyes, relaxed his muscles, and let his brother hit him. Angel caught him before he could hit the wall. He was growling, a soft sub-vocalization Lindsey could only hear because his ear was against Angel's chest. "S'okay," he whispered through an aching jaw. "I owed him that."

Shaking off the residual dizziness from Billy's wallop, Lindsey stepped away from Angel's supporting hands and back over to his brother. Billy looked like he wanted to hit him again. This time when he swung, Lindsey caught the fist and held it. "No. We can't afford to fight one another. I'm leaving."

Billy froze. "Not soon enough," he spat.

"As soon as I know you're safe."

"Billy, listen to him," Camille broke in. She was standing next to Mama Azula, rubbing her arms as if she was cold. Lindsey had the feeling the priestess had been telling her some home truths. "We need his help."

"I don't need anything from this motherf -- " Billy broke off, grinding his teeth in a manner Lindsey instantly recognized. A moment later he continued in a calmer voice, "We can't believe a word he says."

"You can believe me," Camille told him, walking over to stand beside him and take his hand. "And I believe Mama." Billy looked past her at Azula, who stared right back at him. Then he looked back at Lindsey.

"What, then." He glared at Lindsey, but at least he was listening. Lindsey took a deep breath.

"You're under attack. You can't see it because Mama Azula and I, and now these others," he gestured at Angel's group, "have been protecting you. But I've got to go back to LA -- "

"Good!" Billy interjected. Lindsey felt his own jaw start to tense and deliberately relaxed it. Punching Billy in the nose wouldn't do anything but get everybody riled up again. No matter how good it might feel at the time. Pig-headed little bastard. Pulling himself back to his explanation, Lindsey continued.

" -- in order to deal with the cause of the attack. Until it's removed, you'll be at risk. We need to make sure you're safe while we go to the source."

Billy opened his mouth but Camille beat him to speech. "How are you going to do that?"

Mama Azula came over from the sidelines, stopping at Lindsey's side. She raised a hand and beckoned Wesley over. "We'll take care of it, child. You just need to sit quiet and let us get on with what we got to do."

As smoothly as if it had been rehearsed, Angel and Cordelia moved furniture out of the way. Gunn took up a protective position at the door. Once the furniture was moved, Cordelia sat down in the corner and Angel went to join Gunn. Wesley urged Billy and Camille to sit in the center of the room. Mama Azula took a small pouch from her belt and began to weave a pattern in cornmeal, a veve, on the floor around them, singing softly, calling to Ayza as she did so. Wesley moved until he was directly opposite Lindsey on the other side of the couple in the middle of the room.

When the veve was finished, Azula stepped away until she made the third point on a triangle with Lindsey and Wesley's positions. She raised her hands and began to sing in Yoruba. Lindsey then raised his own hands and began to chant one of the oldest, strongest spells he'd ever learned, in Aramaic. At the same time Wesley's hands raised and he began to chant in Latin. The three disparate spells wove together seamlessly, propelled by a common need to protect.

Lindsey let the words flow through him, gathering and concentrating power as they went. His gaze settled on Billy, who was staring back at him, wide-eyed, years of anger and pain being overborne, for the moment, by the sheer strangeness of what was happening. The air between them began to shimmer as a veil of power expanded around Billy and Camille.

Colors played in the air, the orange red of fire, the verdure hue of earth, the azure hint of air, the deep royal blue of the ocean. They wove together, stitched with pure white light, until they formed a sphere around the couple. Then, on a single breath, Azula's song, Wesley and Lindsey's chants ended, and the colors disappeared with an audible snap. The air was clearer than it had been before the ritual, a crystal clarity that echoed in the silence following the song.

After an eternity of stillness, Billy shook his head. "What was that?" he asked weakly, one hand going to his ear as if that final tone still rang through it.

"A shield," Wesley answered. Billy glanced over at him, then back to Lindsey. His eyes demanded answers Lindsey didn't have time to give.

"I'm sorry, Billy," he offered. It was all he had. "I'll fix it."

Billy looked skeptical. Lindsey didn't blame him. When nothing more was forthcoming, Lindsey stepped back from the circle and turned to go. He'd drawn even with Gunn and Angel when Billy's voice stopped him.

"Lindsey."

He looked over his shoulder. Billy was glaring at him, as usual, but the hatred was missing for a change.

"Watch your ass."

Lindsey nodded, then turned back and headed out the door. By the time he made it down the stairs to street level, the houngan were gone, the candles cold. It was an encouraging sign. When attack came again, as he knew it would, there were three levels of protection gathered around his brother. It would hold for long enough for Lindsey to get the job done. A presence loomed over his shoulder.

Well, Lindsey, and Angel.

Footsteps clattered down the stairs.

Okay, Lindsey, Angel, and assorted friends. Lindsey grinned to himself. Wolfram and Hart didn't know what was about to hit them. He'd take advantage of that while he could. He stared at the convertible.

"We don't have time for this," he told Angel. "It's over nineteen hundred miles back to LA. They'll have too much time to prepare."

Angel looked at him. Looked at Wesley. Then over to Cordelia, to Gunn, and back to Wesley. Wes opened his mouth. Shut it again. Sighed.

"What do you suggest?" he asked Lindsey.

"Cordelia and Gunn drive the car back. You, Angel and I fly back. Hit the Firm as soon as we get back."

"That easy?" Angel sounded skeptical.

"I've got a plan," Lindsey assured him.

"Uh-oh," Wesley muttered. Angel smothered a grin and Lindsey glared equally at both of them.

"Do we have to drive back right away?" Everyone looked at Cordelia. She smiled brightly. "I mean, if we're not going to be there in time to help anyway, then why not spend a day in New Orleans before we go back?" The smile became fixed and she got a mulish look in her eye. "I haven't been in a single shop since we got here. And somebody's got to take care of the mess back at the hotel." She shuddered when she said it, but she had a point.

Lindsey nodded. He also caught the glance that shot between Wesley, Angel and Gunn. Keep her out of it. He could read it in their faces.

"Deal."

Gunn was still grumbling under his breath about getting stuck with clean-up duty when he and Cordelia dropped them off at the airport. He didn't dare mention baby-sitting duty. Cordy'd hurt him if he did.

The flight back to LAX went by quickly. Lindsey's battle plan was simple. Sneak in, force Lilah to help them get into the Firm, and take out Nathan Reed. If they needed to go further up the chain of command, they'd take it as far as they had to go. It was sketchy, but it was the best he could come up with, and time was against them.

By the time they landed and rented a car to get them around until Gunn brought Cordelia home, it was almost sunrise. Lindsey was weaving and Wesley was nearly asleep on his feet. Angel hustled them both into the lobby of the hotel and leaned against the counter.

"If we try to go after them in this condition we'll be slaughtered before we get in the door."

Lindsey stared at him. After talking most of the flight home, making and discarding plans, his tongue felt like lead. Thankfully, Wesley asked the question so Lindsey didn't have to.

"What do you suggest?" Even Wesley was slurring. It had been a long night. And a long day before that.

"Rest today," Angel ordered, "then hit 'em tonight when the foot traffic slows down. What time, Lindsey?"

"'bout ten," he answered automatically. Angel nodded.

"Okay. Wes, there are plenty of rooms, pick one and get some rest. Lindsey, come with me."

Lindsey made a point of not looking at Wesley as he climbed the stairs in Angel's wake. There was no need. He could feel Wesley staring at him all the way up. Putting off that explanation for another day, hopefully one when he'd actually have an explanation to _give_, Lindsey followed Angel into his room.

He wasn't quite sure what he was expecting, but the businesslike way Angel stripped down wasn't it. He stood in the middle of the room and watched as jet black silk and leather gave way to perfect creamy skin, then swallowed, trying to get some moisture back in his mouth. Angel was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen, dead or alive. Preservation was a wonderful thing. Once fully naked, Angel finally looked over at him.

Grinned.

Inclined his head toward the bathroom.

"I'm taking a shower. You're welcome to join me." He walked out of the bedroom and Lindsey heard the water start. "Works better if you lose the clothes first," floated out to him.

He was stripped and standing with his hand stretched out toward the shower curtain before he gave himself time to think about it. Reality caught up with him outside the tub and he stopped to ask himself what he was doing. Then the curtain twitched, Angel's hands shot out and grabbed him, and he found himself lifted bodily and deposited between Angel and the stream of water from the shower head.

It felt good.

Angel didn't waste any time. He seldom did. He simply leaned down, tilted Lindsey's head back and kissed the living daylights out of him. Lindsey closed his eyes against the water trickling down over his scalp and tried not to drown in either the spray or the kiss.

It felt _incredibly_ good.

Then Angel wasn't kissing him anymore, and he blinked water out of his eyes as he was turned again and leaned against the back wall of the shower. Before he could complain about being manhandled like a life-sized blow-up doll, Angel slid down the front of Lindsey's body and swallowed his cock.

So much for complaints.

The sounds coming out of his mouth couldn't be termed coherent by even the broadest definition. His hands reached out of their own accord and buried themselves in Angel's thick hair, combing convulsively through the short strands. His knees threatened to give, but when they tried they bumped into Angel's shoulders, so he stayed propped upright. The water splashed against Angel's back, and Lindsey could see rainbows in the drops as they splattered back against the sides of the tub.

Or maybe that was just his brain exploding behind his eyelids. At least, that's what it felt like when he came. He couldn't even give warning. Getting sucked by a man who didn't have to draw breath had an amazing effect. He'd never gotten continuous pressure like that before, and he had to pry one hand off Angel's head and cram his fist in his mouth or he would have screamed loudly enough to bring Wesley in at a run.

Some things went better without an audience. Getting his mind, and the rest of him, blown by Angel in the shower was definitely one of them.

Then he was drained, and he was sliding helplessly down the tiles, and Angel was catching him. Holding him on his knees in the bottom of the tub, the water washing around their legs. Kissing him, biting, hungry kisses on Lindsey's mouth and neck and cheek. Angel started to rock against him and Lindsey summoned enough strength for one word.

"Wait."

Angel stopped licking his throat and looked at him like he'd lost his mind. Lindsey gave him a grin he had a feeling was lopsided, then concentrated all his energy on turning around. The light went on in Angel's expression and he let loose a low growl.

Then he reached down and helped.

Lindsey leaned his cheek against the steamy tile and closed his eyes as Angel shifted forward, knees pushing Lindsey's far apart. The cool hard length of Angel's thighs between his own felt good against his heated skin. Then Angel touched him, fingers sliding into him, and Lindsey groaned despite his best efforts to stay quiet.

This was a new one on Lindsey, and even with his orgasm and his exhaustion, he was tight. Angel took his time, distracting Lindsey from what the fingers were doing to his ass by moving his other hand around and playing with Lindsey's chest. Nipping and kissing the side of his throat. Slipping down and playing with his balls. By the time Angel decided Lindsey was ready for him, Lindsey was _more_ than ready for him. He was hard again, a minor miracle, and he was moaning continuously into the arm he'd raised to brace himself against the tiles.

Angel shifted up, then in, lifting Lindsey off his knees with the first thrust. Lindsey screamed, biting his arm to muffle the noise. Most of the height Angel had on Lindsey was in his legs, and Lindsey was feeling every inch of it now as Angel moved in him. Each thrust took him up into the wall, pushing his erection into Angel's hand, throwing his weight back against Angel and pushing Angel so far in him Lindsey thought he could feel the pressure against his heart.

It was a hell of a first time.

As slowly as he'd taken time to prepare him, Angel took the time when taking him. Lindsey hit the edge of climax only to be brought back from it again and again, until he was banging his head against his arm without being aware of it. Then Angel thrust the fingers of his free hand through Lindsey's hair and pulled his head back. The new angle kept Lindsey leaning back against Angel, completely off balance, with Angel buried in him to the balls, Lindsey's legs splayed uselessly to either side of Angel's. Angel pumped his hips, keeping everything else still.

This time when Lindsey teetered on the edge of orgasm Angel pushed him over. Lindsey instinctively shoved his fist back in his mouth as Angel bit into the muscle at the juncture of his shoulder and neck. No fangs, but he didn't need them. The brush of pain was a perfect grace note to the climax wracking Lindsey. He was barely aware of Angel moving in him throughout.

When it was over, they were curled together against the side of the tub. The water was getting cold, but since Angel was covering Lindsey and taking the brunt of the spray he didn't really care. His knees were getting sore, though. And his muscles had come unstrung. Far from protesting when Angel practically carried him out of the shower, Lindsey let him do whatever he wanted. The towel felt good. The sheets felt better.

He wasn't aware of falling asleep, but when he woke up it was early evening. Angel lay behind him, the sheet wrapped around them both, binding them together. Lindsey stared down at the muscular arm trapping him to the mattress and thought about how strange it was to share a bed with someone who didn't breathe. Or anyone at all, for that matter. It had been awhile.

Then he spared a moment's thanks that it was Los Angeles in July, so at least he wasn't freezing his ass off, because his hair was still damp, the pillow was wet under his head, and Angel was siphoning off all Lindsey's body heat.

Not to mention the fact that his butt was sore.

There was movement behind him, then the hand that had been curled into a loose fist in front of his chest uncurled. Stretched. Reached with unerring accuracy directly for Lindsey's groin.

Lindsey's eyes widened.

A rough sound like a purr started behind his left ear. "Uhmmm ..." Angel breathed.

Oh, well. Lindsey grinned. They had a few hours before the attack on Wolfram and Hart commenced. Might as well put it to good use. Angel's hand moved, and Lindsey turned his head to moan into the clammy pillow. If that was any indication, they would be put to _very_ good use.

So would he.

 

Cordelia was staring at the deep sapphire of the antique glass beads on the necklace she was about to add to her collection when the world spun. Happily, Gunn was right behind her and was able to save both her and the necklace.

The snakes were back, but they were confused. They were slithering all over the pit, looking for a target. Lindsey, recognizable now even though she couldn't see his face, had a blazing circle of fire all around him. Above him, in the shadows, she could hear a sound like a wild dog growling. Or maybe a really big cat. A really big, really territorial cat. With jealousy issues.

There were fewer snakes, but also fewer targets. The other man was gone, and there was a glowing wall where he used to be. Some of the snakes flung themselves at it and were wrapped in tubes of light with pretty colors sparkling over them. Then the tubes would collapse and the snakes would be squished.

Cordelia cheered. Silently, of course. But every squished snake was one less snake to worry about. The rest of the snakes didn't notice, just kept squirming around Lindsey, trying to get past the ring of fire.

The cat growled. The snakes hissed. Cordelia sighed.

And opened her eyes to find herself securely in Gunn's arms, staring into the concerned face of the shop owner.

"She's okay," Gunn said over her shoulder. "Gets fits sometimes. No problem."

"Fits?" she asked incredulously as he led her out the door. "Hey! Wait a minute! I want to buy -- "

He dangled the necklace in front of her face. "You see anything we gotta take care of?"

"It's under control," she said happily, taking the necklace from his hand and dropping it over her head. It looked good against her shirt. "Thanks."

He grinned down at her. "My pleasure. You sure we don't have to head off now?" He sounded hopeful. She grinned sunnily up at him.

"Nope! Plenty of time left to shop."

She didn't bother waiting for his defeated groan. She was on a mission. She set off. He followed, grumbling all the way. Funny, she didn't see how this could be worse than fighting the minions of hell. Surely he couldn't mean it. She looked back over her shoulder.

He looked like he did. Okay, maybe it was time to head back to LA. Sighing wistfully, she turned back toward the car. He grinned all the way home. She shook her head. Rather be fighting demons than going shopping.

Men. Who could understand them?

 

Angel made some calls while Lindsey got dressed and fine-tuned the plan in his head. He knew the Firm had changed all their locks, combinations, and wards since he'd left. It didn't matter. He knew where Lilah lived, and she hadn't moved. Angel made a couple sarcastic comments about his breaking and entering talents, but he ignored them. Since Angel couldn't cross the threshold, Wesley and Lindsey went inside and Angel lurked in the hallway, out of sight around the corner. They were waiting for her when she got home.

She opened the door, locked it behind her and dropped her briefcase on the chair, kicking off her shoes with a relieved groan. She set the outer alarm and walked into the kitchen. In the process of pouring herself a glass of cranberry juice, Lindsey walked out of her bedroom. She almost dropped the jug. Lindsey caught it before it could spill.

"Oops, that could've been nasty," he teased her. "All that bright red fluid on white shag." He shook his head in mock reproach. "Didn't Lee teach you anything? You never get a stain that color out of the carpet."

He waited for her to respond but she just stared at him, wide-eyed, pale. He reached over and touched her hand gently. She jumped.

"I'm not here to kill you, Lilah." She relaxed fractionally but still eyed him like a wild animal about to bite her. "I'm here to stop you from killing me."

At that, she relaxed further, but looked completely confused. "What are you talking about, Lindsey?"

He grinned cheerfully at her. She shivered. "Okay, truth time. _Now_, I'm not going to kill you." She tried to draw her hand away and he pinned it to the counter. "Somebody at Wolfram and Hart has been targeting me and my family. It's going to stop, or it's going to backfire. Starting with you." His tone made it perfectly clear that he would come back on the Firm with a vengeance, and she would be the first one he took down. She swallowed, then licked her lips.

"It's not me, Lindsey. Hell, I owe you. You saved my life and gave me exactly what I wanted by walking out when you did. Why would I want you to come back? For any reason?"

He stared at her long enough to decide that he believed her. She paled further, but didn't try to fight him. He'd break her arm in an instant, and she knew it.

"Give me a name."

She was shaking her head before he finished getting the words out. He pulled on her arm, dragging her partially across the counter and putting his other hand, the one she still thought was evil, against her throat.

"They'll kill me! Or worse!" Her voice was choked. The whites of her eyes were showing.

"This isn't sanctioned. You know that." The even tenor of his response calmed her somewhat. When he knew she was listening he went on. "The senior partners aren't behind this or I wouldn't have survived long enough to take it back to them." Behind him, he heard Wesley's strangled gasp. Lilah jerked, but Lindsey held her down and ignored Wesley. "This is personal. What's Nathan been up to recently?"

Her chest rose and fell in a deep, steadying breath. "Not much. I think ... when he misjudged you, he fell out of favor."

Lindsey thought about it for a second. It fit with what he'd been thinking. "So, by taking me out, he's trying to get back in their good graces? Makes sense." Too much sense. "Lilah," he crooned softly, "how do you feel about another promotion?"

She looked at him like he'd lost the last ounce of sanity he possessed. He grinned at her. His hand at her throat twitched. She gulped.

"Okay," she forced out.

"You get us in, then you cover your ass." He knew she could do that.

"Us?" she asked. Wesley stepped forward. Angel must have been listening, because he chose that particular moment to kick the door in. It bounced against the jamb and Lilah practically jumped out of her skin, nearly strangling herself on Lindsey's hand.

Lindsey sighed. "Invitations are so much easier on doors." Angel grinned at him.

"So, are we on or what?"

They were. Lilah's identity card got them into the executive car park. She and Wesley, least likely of the three men to be recognized, went up in the elevator while Lindsey and Angel took the back stairs. The alarm shaman wailed about the presence of a vampire on the premises and security rushed to secure the exits. All available guards deployed around the perimeter, beginning a floor by floor search. Starting at the lobby.

Since their prey was already several floors up, this wasn't a problem for the vampire in question.

By the time the guards got to the third floor, Lindsey and Angel were at the fifteenth, and Wesley was slipping the latch to let them in. A few seconds later, the favors Angel had called in hit the lobby.

With an armored truck.

All the guards who'd been searching were recalled to deal with the pandemonium breaking out in the lobby. They were thorough, but they weren't very smart, and the trick Angel had pulled the first time he snuck into the building worked just as well the second. Gunn's soldiers loosed a couple of captured vampires on the grounds then stampeded them to add to the confusion. These vampires were more canny than the first one and led the guards on a merry chase all over the lower floors of the building.

Slipping into the security office on the executive floor, Lindsey grinned at the chaos playing on the screens. It was better than the Cartoon Network. The guard monitoring the screens turned to challenge him and Angel hit him. Just once. That's all it took.

Stepping over the unconscious guard, Lindsey disabled the security grid in the most direct way possible. He put a sledgehammer through the middle of the control grid. Sparks flew every which way and the monitors went dark. Making his way to the hallway outside Reed's office, Angel at his heels, he saw Wesley working the delicate magic necessary to defeat the ward at the threshold of the room. Inside, Lindsey could hear Nathan chanting.

The old man sounded a little panicked.

Lindsey's grin hardened. Closing his eyes, he reached out into the miasma of conflicting spells blocking their way into the office. "Watch out, Wes," he murmured, then concentrated hard.

The blockade exploded. Angel yanked Wesley out of the way of the backlash and gave Lindsey a reproachful look. Wesley looked a little fish-eyed. Lindsey shrugged apologetically.

"Sometimes it takes a lock-pick, sometimes a battle ax," he explained, then gestured for Angel to kick the door in.

Once inside, they were immediately under attack. Reed had his own bodyguard, a mixed batch of second-tier guard demons, not as fierce as the Taskers but still dangerous. Lindsey and Wesley went back to back, fighting off a combination of magic and physical attacks by whatever means necessary. Angel waded in on his own and started ripping body parts off various demons and beating other demons with them. Bloody, but effective.

Lindsey clutched his sledgehammer with both hands, swinging non-stop, while chanting spells through clenched teeth. The words were clear enough for the business at hand, if a little rough. Wesley was doing a better job at the spell-casting but not as good with the hand-to-hand combat. Lindsey grabbed him by the shoulder and yanked him out of the way of an incoming Grolek, crushing its chest it as it threw itself at them. Wesley nodded thanks, never interrupting the flow of archaic Greek he was chanting. Lindsey acknowledged the nod with a grin and kept on fighting.

Angel made it through to Reed before Lindsey and Wesley could fight their way clear of the pack. Once there, he took care of the problem the way he usually did -- directly. He snapped Reed's neck and ripped his head off.

Lindsey froze.

He shouldn't have been able to do that. If he still had his soul, if he was still Angel, if they hadn't done anything stupid and irrevocable with all the fooling around, if Angel wasn't Angelus ... Angel glared over at Lindsey as if he could read his mind.

"Don't be an idiot," he yelled. "It wasn't human." Then he held up Nathan Reed's bony head.

Too bony.

Lindsey ducked an incoming demon, jabbed up with the business end of his sledgehammer and cracked its spine absently. There were too many bones on Reed's head. There was, in fact, a ridge of them showing through the smooth shiny pate. Lindsey blinked, barely feeling the rush of air as Wesley plucked the last demon away and slammed it into the far wall.

"What kind of demon was he?" Lindsey asked. The question seemed to echo. The room was eerily silent after the mayhem of battle.

"Grivayet," Lilah answered. All three men jumped. None of them knew she'd followed them in.

"Never heard of it," Wesley admitted.

"I thought you were going to stay out of this?" Angel asked her. She shrugged. Lindsey walked over to her, then reached out and gently stroked her cheekbone with his finger.

"I hope it wasn't a relative."

Wesley choked. Angel started to laugh, but he choked too when she admitted calmly, "My father."

"Shit." Lindsey made an abortive reach for his weapon. Lilah smiled at him. There were more teeth in that smile than there should have been.

"Don't worry," Lilah assured Lindsey, patting his shoulder before picking her way through the scattered assorted demon corpses to stand looking down at the dead, decapitated one who had been her sire. "You saved me the trouble."

Angel hastily dropped the head he was still holding, then looked abashed when Lilah glanced over at him. "Sorry," he muttered.

"Quite all right," she told him equably. She looked more tranquil than Lindsey could ever remember seeing her.

"Your own father was going to have you killed?" He couldn't keep the incredulity out of his voice. Lilah grinned over at him.

"Until you stopped him. I've been waiting for the ax to fall ever since. Literally." She looked back down at the corpse. "I didn't expect him to bring it on himself, though. Poor planning on his part." She walked around the desk, then settled into the leather chair and looked around at them before settling on Lindsey. She gave him a warm smile. He swallowed hard. Still too many teeth in it. "Thank you for the promotion. As far as Wolfram and Hart is concerned, our business is over, Lindsey. We won't bother you if you don't bother us."

"Does that include him?" Lindsey gestured at Angel. Even more teeth showed, something he hadn't believed possible. She didn't bother saying anything, thus giving him his answer. He looked over at Angel.

Angel heard what she didn't say, too. Lindsey took a deep breath and moved to stand beside Angel, careful not to trip on Reed's corpse. Or his head. "Taking on Angel means taking on me," he warned her softly.

She nodded. "I had an idea that might be the case. If and when it comes to that, we'll deal with it."

On that uneasy note of truce, Lindsey headed for the door. Wesley beat him to it, and Angel followed him out. Lilah was reaching for the phone when he stuck his head back around and caught her. She held it up and said, "Clean-up crew" before he could ask. He grinned.

"Watch your ass," he told her. One corner of her mouth tipped up.

"Always," she told him.

He believed her.

No one talked on the drive home. Angel dropped Wesley off in front of his apartment building. Wes looked at Angel, then at Lindsey, then bit his lip and climbed out without saying a word. They watched him until the door closed behind him and the light came on in his window. As they pulled away, Lindsey leaned back against the seat and looked over at Angel.

"You're gonna have to deal with it sometime."

Angel nodded once, then glanced over at Lindsey and back away. "Later."

Lindsey let it rest. They'd pulled up in front of the hotel before either of them said anything else. Angel parked the car and turned off the ignition.

"Did you mean it?" he asked abruptly. Lindsey stared over at him.

"It?"

"What you told her."

"To which part of what I told her are you referring?" Very best lawyer-talk. Never give an inch unless it could be turned to one's own advantage. Angel leaned across the seat, cornered Lindsey against the door and kissed him soundly.

Lindsey was panting by the time Angel broke it off. Angel just stared at him.

"Yeah," he finally admitted. Angel looked skeptical. "Jesus, what do you want, Angel? Blood?" It hit him that _that_ was a stupid question to ask a vampire. Angel actually looked like he was considering it.

"You offering?"

A shudder ripped through Lindsey, and it shook him to the core to realize that he was. He had to swallow twice before he could answer. From the wide dark eyes staring at him in shock, he had the feeling Angel already knew. So he answered the first question, not the last. "I'm here as long as you want me."

The wide eyes darkened further, and Lindsey swallowed again. Angel tracked the movement of his throat for a moment then slowly lowered his head until his mouth was resting directly over Lindsey's carotid artery. Not believing he was doing it even as he did, Lindsey tipped his head back, giving Angel access and permission.

There was a soft growl from directly below his chin, then the pin-prick of a single fang through his skin. Lindsey moaned involuntarily as a rough tongue lapped at the drop of blood that welled from the tiny wound.

"Could be a long time," Angel warned him. Lindsey raised his hand and pressed Angel's face back to his throat.

"I know."

Angel drew back and looked at him. Lindsey leaned forward, licking a trace of blood from Angel's upper lip. This time when Angel growled, Lindsey growled back. Angel's game face melted into his familiar human features as he stared, bemused, at Lindsey.

"Well, I guess somebody's got to watch over you," Angel told him, sounding resigned to the task. "Might as well be me."

He caught Lindsey's fist before it could land. Then he used it to pull Lindsey into his lap and kiss him again. By the time Lindsey got his breath back and started to argue, Angel had him up to their room and half naked. Then Lindsey got distracted and never did make his defense.

Angel had been doing that to one degree or another since Lindsey'd met him. With everything else that had changed, that was one thing that never would.

At least, Lindsey hoped not.

 _END_

 


End file.
